Why Did Dylan Quinn Have to Exist?
by PJOBookWorm
Summary: "It's five quid! What are you, chicken?" "That's it! You've got a bet." I wasn't thinking straight, and now Emma, Liz, and I were shut in the boys' changing room, dodging a kicking squirrel and holding Dylan Quinn's knickers-no, Liz, they're not pants.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Another Kane chronicles fic! This is the one based off of when Sadie says that she never got her friends in that much trouble, not even when they got shut in the boys' changing room. Feel free to point out any mistakes I made with British slang and all that, and I apologize in advance for any mistakes that I might have for that. I would just like to make this part clear so there's no confusion: In the quote, Sadie says "Dylan Quinn's knickers". I always thought of Dylan as a boy, but then I found out the knickers refer to girls. I think Dylan should be a boy, and besides, no offense to Rick Riordan, but he doesn't always get everything from other cultures right, Frank Zhang's "real" Chinese name being an example. So to avoid too much confusion, they're stealing his pants, which should be the right term I think, but Sadie calls them knickers because they look like knickers, and to annoy Liz. Please tell me if I got that wrong!_

_Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan, so therefore I do not own the Kane Chronicles or the characters or anything._

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><p><span>Why Did Dylan Quinn Have to Exist?<span>

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

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><p><em>"My poor friends. I'd never gotten them into this much trouble, not even when we got shut in the boys' changing room at school. (Long story, which involved a five quid bet, Dylan Quinn's knickers, and a squirrel. Perhaps I'll tell you later.)"<em>

_~Sadie Kane, __The Throne of Fire__, page 115_

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><p>"Catch—that—squirrel!"<p>

It was chaos. Pure chaos.

The squirrel ricocheted off the walls, chased by three mad, screeching girls. A platform shoe flew in the air, spiraling straight at the squirrel, but the squirrel just trilled and jumped to the side as the shoe hit the wall.

"Darn it!" Emma snapped, hopping on one foot as she stuck her bare foot in the air. She shook off her remaining shoe and pitched it at the squirrel, but the shoe missed again. Emma cursed. At least she lost her ridiculous shoes. She could run faster now and _catch that squirrel!_

"Corner it!" I squealed.

We ran for the squirrel, but it just jumped on top of the lockers, trilling.

"Liz! Hurry with the lockers, will you?" Emma cried.

"I'm trying!" Liz cried out as she frantically spun a combination on a lock, tugged on it, then stomped her foot and moved on to the neighboring locker. "I'm trying!"

Then a ball of brown fur catapulted in the air and shot past our faces, blurring as it gained speed. Screaming, we jumped back as the squirrel barely missed smashing into our heads.

"Run after it!" I shouted, regaining my composure.

It didn't help that we had to chase down the squirrel in the bloody boys' changing room. The boys' changing room, with not much running space for us, because of all the lockers and the benches, but plenty for the squirrel. And the disgusting stench emitting from the locker room did _not_ help us run faster.

[Okay, so I'll explain why we were locked in the boys' changing room, chasing after a mental, lunatic, deranged squirrel. It all started the afternoon before, after school ended and Emma, Liz, and I were walking home…]

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><p>The bell rang, signaling the end of school, and the doors burst open, students spilling out of the cage. I pushed my way through the crowd of people, anxious to get out of the prison. Turning around, I called to my mates, "Emma! Liz! Hurry up!"<p>

Emma rolled her eyes and pushed up her giant, gemmed glasses with one hand as she hiked her bag up the shoulder it was slung on with her other hand. She could have pushed her way through faster if it hadn't been for the furry miniskirt—yes, furry—that she was wearing and the tall platform shoes she always wore to add additional height to her midget-self. (She was always self-conscious about her height. In fact, that was why she spiked her hair up. She was dying for a growth spurt anytime soon, and she was actually getting her wish.)

Liz puffed behind her, pulling on her denim jacket over her light green shirt as she kept pace with Emma in her trainers. (Sometimes, Liz had more a lot more sense than Emma.) She pulled her fingers through her flaming red hair, and then glanced to her side, immediately blushing a deep red that hid her freckles. She quickly looked away, stumbling a little as she looked a little too obviously back at the door.

Hm. I looked over to Liz's left and saw Dylan Quinn navigating his way through the crowd whilst talking to his friend. Dylan reached out for a high-five from his mate, and his eyes wandered to his right, but he didn't seem to notice Liz and turned back to his mate.

As we pulled free of the crowd, I rolled my eyes at Liz, my ever-so boy-crazy friend. Emma grinned.

"So, Liz," Emma said as we walked down the pavement in front of the school. "What's this I hear about Dylan?" Liz's eyes widened.

"Yeah," I piped in. "Is this the, what, sixty-eighth bloke you've fancied?" Immediately, Liz blushed furiously again, her freckles hiding underneath the red on her cheeks. "Oh, look," I said gleefully. "Your freckles are hiding again!"

"So it's true?" Emma asked. I didn't doubt it. Honestly, how many boys have Liz and Emma fancied?

"No… well, fine. Maybe," Liz said, glancing behind her. "Would you quiet down? People will hear."

It wasn't like that'd be news to anyone though. Emma and Liz were way too boy crazy that I sometimes felt like smacking their heads to get them to stop giggling over a bloke.

"Liz!" Emma squealed. "This is brilliant! You two would look lovely together!"

Liz's face was absolutely aflame, and she glanced down. Perfect. Hidden freckles equaled the perfect opportunity for teasing.

"Oh, I do believe our mate's freckles are on holiday again," I snickered to Emma, who grinned back. "Why, they do love their holidays. Liz is so nice, letting them go on holiday all the time."

Emma reached out and patted Liz's arm. "Don't worry, Liz. Dylan will love you because of your kindness. Do you reckon he'll fancy a holiday from you, too?" Emma smirked.

Emma and I cackled while Liz glared at us. "Honestly, just give it a rest, you two!"

Seeing that Liz was ready to go into battle mode, Emma and I stopped laughing. After all, there was no need to see a full-on, angry, spitting Liz living up to her stereotypical easily-infuriated redhead status.

"Fine, let's talk about something else, then," I suggested, smirking at Liz. She narrowed her eyes back at me.

"Oh," Emma piped up, "like how mad Mrs. Banes went today."

Liz's eyes brightened, and she stopped her glowering to contribute to the conversation. "Who knew she could scream that much?" Liz snickered.

Emma nodded, widening her eyes in annoyance. "Her face went almost as red as Liz's can go," Emma added, and Liz gave her an indignant look. "It's true!" Emma defended.

Mrs. Banes definitely was the least popular teacher in our whole school. Maybe it was the way she lectured us, or maybe it was the way she picked on her students. But whatever the reason, I was not sorry for causing her to almost pop a blood vessel.

"She was lecturing us because we were sitting too close to the computer in the desks _she_ placed in the room," I said. "I don't see how that was our fault."

"It looked like she was going to break the computer into bits," Liz remarked.

"I probably shouldn't have asked her if she really did know how to use a computer," I admitted, shrugging. "But honestly, that was a fair question. It's not like she _looks_ like she's in her thirties!"

"You shouldn't have said that last part to her, either," Liz sighed, shaking her head.

"Are you kidding?" Emma exclaimed. "It was brilliant! Can't wait until she gets sacked."

A slight warm breeze blew around us and the sun shone brightly, the clouds floating around carelessly in the sky. We traveled down the pavement and neared the park, but just as we were crossing the road, a squirrel scurried past. Liz jumped back, squeaking.

For some reason, Liz had a terrible phobia of squirrels. Whenever Emma and I asked her about it, she'd just shake her head furiously and keep her mouth glued shut, refusing to talk about it. She'd even let us tease her all we wanted to about how red her face could get if it meant not talking about squirrels. Once, we bought her a stuffed squirrel that looked scarily real and put it in a box. When she opened it, she screamed, dropped the box on the ground, and ran out. She refused to talk to us for a week after that.

"Calm down, Liz," I said. "It's only a squirrel."

"Those nasty little animals." Liz squirmed. "I hate them!"

Emma crouched down, grinning, and leaned out her hand towards the squirrel, coaxing it to come nearer. As she turned back to smirk at Liz, who was glaring fiercely at Emma, heavy footsteps pounded the pavement behind us and the squirrel perked up, looked around, and ran away. We turned around and saw a group of four girls advancing our way. In front of the group was Danielle.

"Oh, hi Sadie, Emma, Liz!" Danielle greeted.

"Hi."

Danielle was a nice enough girl once you got to know her and was really cheery and bright, though I heard talk that she had a dark side. She was also really blithe and often did things without thinking. [What? That last part doesn't sound like anyone else I know. Shush. I'm telling a story.]

"We were just making bets," Danielle said brightly. "I bet Leah that she couldn't eat one of those bugs on that tree." Danielle pointed to a tree a bit behind them. "But," she continued admiringly, "she did!"

"Um, congratulations, then," I said, not knowing what else to say—"Way to show that bug! You chew"? I didn't think so.

Leah grimaced and chugged down half the water in her water bottle.

"And I bet Heather," Danielle continued, "that she can't go the whole day tomorrow without talking. And I bet Bethany that she can't walk the whole way home on one leg."

Bethany was indeed hopping around on one leg and Heather was blabbing on and on about some random rubbish to make up for tomorrow.

"So," Danielle said. "Do _you _lot fancy making a bet?"

I'd rather not eat a bug, thanks. I've eaten a bug before. That definitely wasn't my best memory. (Long story. Well, here's a piece of advice: if you're baking biscuits, _don't_ leave the biscuit batter by an open window whilst you go out to take a walk so a bug can jump into the batter. And if that happens, don't _not_ notice the bug, bake the biscuits, then force them upon your granddaughter, using the, "I worked so hard on them; I was sure you'd love them," blackmail with a frail look on your face. And if your granddaughter relents after two hours of prodding, _don't_ give her the biscuit with the bug in it and watch her eat it.)

Anyway, I was getting sidetracked.

"Um, sure?" Liz said uncertainly as she glanced at Emma and me, and we shrugged.

"Hm," Danielle murmured, "let me think of one."

While Danielle thought, Bethany hopped around on one foot, wobbling. "Danielle," Bethany cried, "can you hurry up?"

"Huh?" Danielle looked up just in time to see Bethany wobble around and finally fall down on the pavement. "Brilliant!" Danielle smiled. "You owe me a quid."

Grumbling, Bethany stood up and kicked the ground. She reached into her pocket and grumpily thrust a pound into Danielle's outstretched hand.

"Oh!" After she stuck the quid into her pocket, Danielle looked back towards the school, her eyes focusing on a bloke far away. "I bet you a quid that you lot can't nick a pair of Dylan Quinn's pants!"

It took me a moment to process what she said. When it fully got through my head, I recoiled, scrunching my nose in disgust. What kind of girl gave a bet like _that_? Liz and Emma had similar reactions.

"What?" Liz shrieked, her cheeks burning. "Why would we want to do that?"

"Are you mad?" Emma said.

"And I suppose you want us to give you the pants so you can cuddle with them at night?" I asked.

Danielle's cheeks flushed. "Of course not!" she stuttered. "Someone gave me that dare, but I didn't accept it because Dylan and I… um… _Anyway!" _She cleared her throat and quickly rushed on, a faint pink tinting her cheeks. "So I thought that maybe you lot would be able to do it as a bet."

"No thanks," Emma said.

"I'd rather not touch his pants," Liz said as her freckles kept hiding.

"A quid for all three of us?" I asked. "That's a rip-off."

And truthfully, it was. But it wasn't as if I was going to accept the bet.

"Fine," Danielle sighed. "I'll give you two quid."

"Two quid?" Emma scoffed. "Do you think we'll want to touch Dylan's pants for two quid?"

I faked a cough as I glanced sideways at Liz; Liz stepped on my foot. It didn't hurt too much. At least she wasn't wearing platform shoes like a certain individual standing not too far away from me.

"How about twenty quid?" I asked, smirking, wanting to see Danielle blanch.

I wasn't disappointed. "Twenty quid?" Danielle repeated, her mouth dropping open. "Are you mad?"

"No. Are _you?_" I accused. "I suppose you are, with that bet of yours."

"There's no way I'm giving you twenty quid," Danielle said, ignoring Heather as she tapped Danielle on the shoulder. "Three quid."

"Three?" I said. "That's rubbish. Eight. Eight quid. And I think your mate wants to talk to you."

As Danielle turned around to talk to a loudly blubbering Heather, Liz grabbed my arm and pulled me back. "Sadie!" she hissed. "We are _not _nicking Dylan's pants."

"Relax," I whispered. "We're not nicking pants. I'm just arguing for fun. She won't agree."

"Besides," Emma added. "I know you'd want to nick his pants, Liz."

Liz reddened. "I would not!"

"Your freckles beg to differ," Emma snickered.

I scrunched up my nose. "That's just disgusting. I'd rather not touch them, so let's stop talking about that."

We hushed up, Emma still smirking at Liz, and Liz trying to act as if she would not want to nick Dylan's knickers. Danielle turned back from her talk with Heather. "Right, sorry about that," she said. "And no, I'm not giving eight quid."

Emma exchanged looks with me and grinned. "Are you afraid you'll actually have to lose eight quid?" Emma asked, playing along.

Danielle scoffed. "The only way I'd bet even five quid is if you lot did something more," she said as her eyes scanned the pavement and landed on another squirrel. "Like if you nicked his pants and replaced them with a squirrel."

A squirrel?

"What?" Liz cried. Her face had rapidly paled, making her freckles stand out against her face. She tugged at her hair nervously.

"Hm," Danielle murmured. "Five quid that you lot can't nick a pair of Dylan Quinn's pants and replace it with a squirrel? You've got a bet!"

"Wait, _what?_"

Danielle and her mates started walking away. "Five quid!" Danielle called over her shoulder. "Pants! Squirrel!"

"Sadie!" Liz shot me a horrified look.

What was Danielle playing at, that git? "I didn't even agree!" I exclaimed. I took in Liz's horrified expression, her eyes full of panic, and shot after Danielle. "Oi! Danielle! Wait!"

Danielle stopped walking and turned around. "What?"

"I never accepted the bet," I said as I slowed down to a stop in front of Danielle and held up my hand. "The bet's off."

Danielle smiled sweetly and shook her head. "You've already agreed. You can't call the bet off. Silly Sadie."

"But I never agreed!" I cried.

"Yes, you have," Danielle explained slowly, as if I were a two-year-old child who couldn't easily punch her face. "By wagering the amount of money in the bet, you've agreed."

That had absolutely _no _logic to it at all, and I scowled. "You know what?" I asked. "Fine. We've lost. I'll give you your five quid."

"Ah," Danielle said, wagging her finger. "But as you haven't even attempted the bet yet, you'll have to triple the payment. Fifteen quid!"

"Haven't attempted it yet?" I repeated, outraged. "Right, well, look, it's a squirrel." I pointed at another small squirrel shooting past and made a small attempt to chase after it. "Look, I've attempted to chase down a squirrel so I could replace it with Dylan's pants, but oh no, I couldn't catch it," I said dryly. "And I give up, so the bet is off!"

"Oh, Sadie," Danielle sighed, shaking her head. "I never took you for a scaredy-cat!"

I dropped my mouth open in anger at the really childish insult. "A scaredy-cat? First of all, how old are you? And second, I am not scared of that bet."

See, when I said that once you got to know Danielle, she was "nice enough", that meant that sometimes, she could get… outrageously obnoxious. I guess I knew what people meant now by her dark side.

"Of course not," Danielle said, arching an eyebrow.

"Come on, Danielle, stop being so ridiculous," Liz said as she and Emma walked towards us.

"Sadie's not scared of the bet," Emma added, glaring at Danielle.

"See," Danielle said, pointing towards my mates. "Emma and Liz don't have any problem with doing the bet. Why won't you do the bet?"

"Because." I glanced sideways at Liz. "My grandparents don't like me betting."

"Oh, so you're scared of your grandparents now," Danielle sneered.

"I'm not!" I glared.

"No, you're not," Danielle said. "It's obvious you're just making that excuse up to cover up that fact that you have no guts and would faint if you tried doing that bet."

My eyes narrowed into slits. I almost punched out _her _guts, but restrained myself from doing so. "Honestly, shut up, Danielle. Let it go."

"Come on! It's five quid! What are you, chicken?" Danielle sneered. "Never thought I'd see the day _Sadie Kane _chickened out on something."

Something inside me snapped. Anger bubbled up in my stomach. Danielle was officially nowhere near "nice enough" anymore. "That's it!" I screamed. "You've got a bet!"

Danielle smirked. "Lovely."

I turned and stormed away from Danielle and her minions, needing to get as far away from them as I could. I heard my mates running after me. I heard protests of "Sadie!" But I only slowed down a bit as I walked on.

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><p><em>AN: And that's the end of the first chapter. I'll be having around five chapters, I think, so please stay tuned! :D I hope you liked it and please review!_

_Coming up next chapter (dialogue):_

_"Will lock-picking even work?"_

_"Have faith in my breaking-in skills."_

_"There's got to be some other way."_

_"Exactly. Stand back. I'm going to throw this at the window on the door. Hopefully, it'll break."_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thanks for your reviews and favorites in just the first chapter! I really appreciate it. :) Now, here's chapter two! Enjoy!_

__Previously: Danielle makes a bet with Sadie, Liz, and Emma that for five quid, they can't steal a pair of Dylan Quinn's pants and replace it with a squirrel. Liz has a phobia of squirrels, so they disagree to the bet. But after Danielle's taunting, Sadie snaps and agrees to the bet before stomping off.__

__Disclaimer: I don't own the Kane Chronicles, the characters, etc.__

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><p><span>Why Did Dylan Quinn Have to Exist?<span>

* * *

><p>Chapter 2<p>

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><p><em>"My poor friends. I'd never gotten them into this much trouble, not even when we got shut in the boys' changing room at school. (Long story, which involved a five quid bet, Dylan Quinn's knickers, and a squirrel. Perhaps I'll tell you later.)"<em>

_~Sadie Kane, __The Throne of Fire__, page 115_

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><p>"Sadie," Liz moaned as I flung open the door to my room and stomped inside, still angry. "Why did you have to go and say yes?"<p>

"Because she was so obnoxious!" I fumed.

"She _was_ being annoying," Emma agreed, flinging herself down onto my chair. "We're photo-shopping her picture next."

Liz sighed and sat on my bed, closing her eyes. "I'm not doing the bet," Liz stated firmly. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter and clenched her fists. Even though her eyes were closed, I could sense the strong resolve in her voice.

I shot a panicked glance at Emma, and then turned back to Liz. "Look, Liz, I'm sorry. I tried to stop her, but—"

"Any other bet. I'll do any other bet but this one," Liz said as she opened her eyes.

I walked to my bed and sat down next to Liz. "Come on, Liz, where's your sense of adventure?" I asked, trying to lighten things up.

"Oh, no, no," Liz said, shaking her head and holding up her hands. "I'm sitting this one out."

"But we need you!" I protested.

"Yeah, we can't do this bet without you!" Emma exclaimed as she straightened up in my chair and wheeled it closer to us. "Besides, Dylan Quinn, right?"

"Who else is going to help me with her and her loony insistence on wearing platform shoes?" I asked, jabbing my finger at Emma.

"Hey!" Emma cried, aiming a kick at me with her aforementioned shoe.

"Three people is the perfect number for things like this," I said, continuing my speech. "Why are you so scared of squirrels, anyway?"

Liz glared and fidgeted around. Finally, she sighed and said, "I was walking around one day, innocent little me"—insert snort here, plus a quickly-aimed kick from Liz—"when suddenly, a raging, lunatic, malicious, deranged squirrel starts chucking acorns at me! And I run away, but the creepy squirrel runs after me, squeaking and still somehow managing to chuck acorns at my head. It was horrifying."

Blinking, I let Liz's story sink in. Not knowing exactly what to say for once to Liz's terrifyingly horid story, I glanced over at Emma, who was furrowing her eyebrows and slowly nodding her head.

"Nice adjectives," I complimented finally.

"You won't even have to touch the squirrel," Emma promised as she got up and walked over to my iPod, before scrolling through my songs. "How many songs do you _have_ on here, Sadie?" I shrugged.

"Do you know how much trouble we'll get in?" Liz asked.

Scoffing, I waved my hand in the air carelessly. "Anytime someone challenges you to a bet, it's worth doing. And the more trouble it can cause," I smirked, "the better."

Liz was quiet for a moment. Finally, she said, "Fine. But when you can't divide five quid equally between three people, I get the bigger share of the money."

A girl after my heart. I grinned. "Cheers."

— - — - — - — - —

I slunk through the hallway of school, struggling with a wiggling, over-stuffed backpack.

"What are _you_ looking at?" I snapped as people in the hall blatantly stared at my squirming bag. They raised their eyebrows suspiciously but walked away, knowing my reputation by now and figuring if they weren't involved, it wouldn't matter.

I continued down the hall, holding the backpack behind my legs, trying to act as inconspicuous as I could with an angry squirrel stuffed in my backpack. The squirrel bumped around in my backpack, making it jerkily sway from side to side. Once I got to my locker, I quickly turned my lock and entered my combination before hurriedly flinging the locker door open and shoving the bag into the narrow space.

The squirrel kicked even more furiously in the bag, and I quickly took out my supplies before slamming the locker door shut. God, how hard was it to get a squirrel to willingly cooperate and not freak out when it was stuffed into a bag and thrown into a locker? At least I couldn't hear the squirrel banging around from here.

[What? How did I get the squirrel? Er. Perhaps I'll save that story for another time. Besides, I can't give away _all _my brilliant techniques and secrets.]

— - — - — - — - —

"This better be worth missing lunch. I'm starving," Liz grumbled.

"I heard that Karen and Mary were going to have an argument during break time today. It was supposed to be a brill show. Why did you have to pick today to do the bet?" Emma whined.

"Honestly," I said, "stop whining. We only have an hour. If you work quickly, then we might be able to see that fight." I raised my eyebrow at Emma and she nodded.

"Wait… Where's the squirrel?" Liz blurted, stepping back as if I were going to take it out from behind my back and throw it at her.

Oh, the squirrel. Right…

"Honestly, Liz, stop acting so jumpy. If I were going to plop it onto your head, I would've already done it two minutes ago," I reasoned, rolling my eyes. Liz should know me better than that. "I don't have it right now. It's in my, er, locker."

Emma's head whirled around. "Your _what_?" she asked. "That's animal abuse! How is that even possible? How'd you even get it here? How—what—"

I squirmed. "Don't ask."

We peeked out the door of the girls' loo and into the quiet, empty hallway. Everyone in the grade was either at lunch or break time, and the teachers were at a meeting in an entirely different part of the school.

"The coast is clear," I hissed. "_Out_."

"You know, I think I'll stay here, but thanks," Liz said.

I rolled my eyes at Emma. We looked at each other, then turned around, grabbed Liz by the arms, and dragged her out into the hall.

"Right," I said after we plopped her down in front of a row of lockers. "You two go stake out the boys' changing room while I get the squirrel."

With a nod, Emma dragged Liz down the hallway, and I took off in the other direction, sprinting for my locker. My feet pounded on the ground, the floor reflecting the lights on the ceiling that seemed to be glaring at me as I ran. Could lights send you the message, "Don't run in the hallway"? When I got to my locker, I quickly yanked my surprisingly still bag out. God, the squirrel didn't die, did it? I gave it food! Like, um, a few slices of bread.

I hurriedly ran towards the gym and to the boys' changing room, passing through the hallways in a blur. I finally slowed down my running and took a moment to regain my breath outside of the gym. When I walked into the gym and looked at the back, I saw that Emma and Liz were just standing near the changing room and kicking the door.

Curious, I walked up to them, shooting them inquiring looks. "Problem," Emma said when she saw me. "The door's locked."

Locked.

The. Door. Was. Locked.

Oh, lovely.

"What?" I cried as I ran up, putting my hand on the door handle and twisting it to no avail. "Why would they do that? That's bloody inconvenient. What're they afraid of, someone coming in and ripping the doors off the lockers?"

"No," Liz said dryly as she stood off to the side, looking tired. "Someone coming in, nicking a pair of pants, and replacing it with a squirrel."

Emma grinned and high-fived Liz.

"I'm rubbing off too much on you," I muttered.

Emma inspected the door again, leaning down and squinting at the handle. "Hey, I can try picking the lock," she suggested. "Do you have a paperclip?"

Yes, of course I'd carry around a paperclip with me at all times. Come off it, I'm not that weird! "Oh, let me check." I stuck my hand in my pocket. "Oh, darn, I seem to have run out of my infinite supply of paperclips I always keep on hand in case I need to break into someplace. I'll be sure to restock on them tonight."

"Oh, you shush up," Emma muttered. "For your information, some people _do _always have a supply of paperclips."

"Who?" I challenged.

Emma fidgeted. "People… in stories."

I opened my mouth to retort, but Liz butted in before I could. "Will lock-picking even work?" she asked skeptically, eying the lock.

"Have faith in my breaking-in skills," Emma said as she placed her hand over her heart and arranged an offended look on her face. "Come on, I've done it _loads_ of times before!" When we looked at her skeptically, she nodded and said, "I _have_! When I forget the keys to the flat, I have to get in _somehow_."

Rolling her eyes, Liz shook the handle. "There's got to be some other way."

Nodding, I dropped my bag, picked up a stray baseball, and raised it over my head. "Exactly. Stand back," I warned, pulling my hand back. "I'm going to throw this at the window on the door. Hopefully, it'll break."

"Sadie Kane!" Emma cried as her and Liz's arms shot up and grabbed the baseball out of my hand. "Don't!"

"Why would they put a window on the door of the changing room anyway?" I asked, walking up towards the door and tapping at the narrow panel of glass in the upper portion of the door with my fist. "That's not very smart. The only solution is incase someone loses the key and can't get in. That way, they can break the window and get someone small to crawl in." But I dropped the baseball to the ground.

"But seeing as no one's that skinny or small to fit through the window," Liz said, "we'll have to find another way."

"Eh-hem," Emma coughed. Her eyes scanned over the ground and she crossed over to the other side of the gym, crouched down, and picked up a paperclip. "At least let me try!"

"It's way too convenient that both of you are finding exactly what you need to on the ground," Liz murmured.

"The ground is extremely messy," Emma said simply. "Now, let me pick the lock." Emma unwound the paperclip and stuck it into the lock. She wiggled it around in the lock. "I _think_ it's working?"

"You _think_," I scoffed, crossing my arms and studying her and the wiggling paperclip dubiously.

I felt a tap on my back. "Um, Sadie?" Liz called. "Your bag is moving."

Snapping my head around, I remembered my bag that I dropped on the ground. Liz stood next to it, looking at it with worry. The bag was indeed shaking, as if it was stuck in Antarctica and freezing. Suddenly, the bag stared to jump around, lifting from the ground and smashing into the wall.

"Oh, lord, what-" Liz started to say.

"God, I forgot about that squirrel!" I exclaimed.

"Wait, what?" Liz cried, stepping back from me. "It's in your bag?"

Honestly, though, where else did she think I'd put it? "I should probably take it out," I said. "It'll go mad otherwise. Almost done with the door, Emma?" I called back towards Emma.

"Er, I think I've almost got it," Emma replied unsurely. Not too good, but oh well.

"Right, well I'm going to let the squirrel out," I said, "so be ready. Liz, you can stand back," I told a worried Liz.

"Sadie—"

But I was already crouching down and sticking my hands out towards my bag. I snatched the zipper and held the bag still between my legs. I yanked the zipper down and set the back on the ground when suddenly, a brown ball bounced out of the bag and blasted past my face.

There's no other way to put it: we screamed. Well, Liz screamed. I don't scream very often. I… gave a cry of surprise. [Yes, there's a difference! Shh, I'm getting to the more action-filled part.]

"Open the door!" I yelled to Emma as the squirrel jumped around the gym.

I ran after the squirrel, reaching out my hands, and leapt for it. My hands closed around the body of fur and I pulled the squirrel back from jumping straight into the wall.

"Emma!" I turned around. Emma was struggling with the door, frantically twisting the paperclip around in the locker and shaking the knob.

"It's—turning!" Emma gasped.

But the squirrel took that moment to leap out of my hands and down the hall.

"No!" Liz cried.

The squirrel zoomed all over the place, from one side of the hall to the other, from one end to the other. I chased after it when the squirrel decided it didn't fancy running around this particular part of the school. It stopped running in zigzags and turned around, running straight back to the gym.

"It's giving in!" Emma exclaimed.

"Lovely!" I gasped as I chased the squirrel around.

"Hey!" Emma cried. "I've got it! It's turning!"

I tore my focus away from the squirrel and snapped my eyes over to where Emma was kicking open the door of the boys' changing room.

"Brilliant!" Liz said, looking relieved.

The squirrel sensed a new area being opened up to run around in. It stopped running for a moment and sat up straight, looking at the open door. Then it shot forward to the boys' changing room, on the way knocking into Emma, who was raising her hands in victory. Emma stumbled back and dropped her paperclip with a "Whoa!"

It was a lucky thing that the security guards at our school were probably the laziest people in history and didn't bother to look at the video surveillance from the security cameras. Otherwise, we'd already be busted and kicked out of school. And I didn't fancy getting Gramps furious with me (he was already scary enough, according to Emma and Liz) and Gran extremely disappointed with me (she was already frail enough, according to, well, everyone).

"After it!" I yelled as I picked up my backpack and slung it back over my shoulder.

And we all ran into the boys' changing room.

You may think, "Gee, Sadie, a girl like you breaking into the boys' changing room. You must be having the time of your life." My response to that is: One—not exactly as I was on the lookout for a mental squirrel, and two—you've got me confused with my mates.

You may also ask, "What was it like in the boys' changing room?"

Our first thought? Liz got it pretty much pegged down.

"It…stinks in here," Liz remarked, crinkling her nose. "It smells absolutely horrid."

It smelled like a cross between a pair of dirty socks, vomit, and my neighbor's rubbish, which is saying something. Even though there weren't any clothes in sight, the stench still filled the place.

"Ew," Emma said. "Wait, where's the squirrel?"

An eerie silence filled the air as our eyes scanned over the room. Blue cube-shaped lockers were built on top of each other, stretching around the room in long rows. In between each row of lockers were long, white benches. The floor had crinkled-up papers, chewed-up pencils, and even a beat-up doll, but there was no squirrel in sight.

Suddenly, I heard a chattering sound, then a rustling sound. We slowly turned around. Then, out from behind the lockers shot the squirrel, screeching like mad and flying towards us. We stumbled back and scattered apart.

"You stuck it in your backpack?" Emma gasped from behind a row of lockers. "No wonder it's on a rampage!"

"It's not like I didn't let it breathe!" I defended, standing to the left of her row of lockers. "I had part of the bag unzipped so it could get some oxygen!"

"Yes, you're just the queen of generosity, Sadie," Liz muttered from the right of Emma.

I ignored her. I was _very _generous, thank you very much. "It's going for the door!" I cried as the squirrel shot towards the exit. "Don't let it escape! Close it!"

Liz hurriedly slammed the door shut with a loud _bang! _as Emma shrieked too late, "No!"

"What?" Liz and I screeched back while the squirrel bristled and hopped away from the exit.

Emma ran up to the door and shook the handle. "It's locked again!" Emma cried.

"I thought you unlocked it!" I said, rushing up towards her.

"It's these dumb doors!" Emma moaned. "They might lock for some reason if you don't keep the key in the lock! That happened once in my social studies class!"

"What? Why does this school have such horrible doors?" I asked as I tugged on the handle. "It's like they weren't even thinking when they bought them. Stupid." I aimed a kick at the door. "Bloody." Another kick. "Door." And another kick. "Actually," I said as I turned around to face Emma, "that would have been fun. Did your teacher go bonkers? What happened?"

"Kids started screaming, paper airplanes were thrown, and somehow, eighteen desks were overturned and two desks were smashed into each other." I nodded appreciatively. "But why don't they just have the locks that lock the door when you push the button from the inside?" Emma complained. "But no, they have to be old-fashioned and lock it from the outside with keys."

"Because if there was a lock on the door inside the classroom, whenever a teacher left, a student would lock the teacher out!" I explained. A smile grew on my face as I thought about that situation. "Well, that'd be really fun to do, especially to Mrs. Banes… Shame."

"Great," Emma groaned. "Just great. We're shut in the boys' changing room."

"I thought this would be a dream come true for you," I teased.

Emma huffed.

"Um," mumbled Liz, who had remained quiet this whole time just staring in shock. "Where did the squirrel go?"

I glanced around the room, which was deadly quiet and had no squirrel in sight again.

"Does the squirrel know how to teleport or something?" I grumbled crossly.

Emma stopped shaking the door handle and turned around. "Brilliant," she muttered darkly.

"Forget about the squirrel," I said. "It'll pop up randomly sometime. How are we going to find Dylan's locker?" The original plan was to nick the list that had everyone's lockers and names, but it didn't look like we could do that now.

It was silent for a while until Liz gave out a cough and muttered something under her breath.

"Hm?" Emma asked. "What was that, Liz? I didn't quite catch it." But her tone and grin made it sound like she did.

Liz's cheeks burned and she said, "I know his combination."

I stared at Liz as her face steadily grew redder and she fidgeted around. Then, I started laughing, throwing my head back and laughing like a madwoman.

"You—know—his—combination?" I gasped through my laughter. "Wow, Liz. I thought you couldn't get any more boy-crazy. Honestly, stalking! That's a new level. I hope you didn't take a page out of Emma's book."

Emma grinned. "Aw, my little pupil's growing up. I'm so proud of her."

"I don't stalk him," Liz spluttered. "He just dropped that slip they give you with the combination on it. And I saw it."

"Right, well, I suppose you know which locker is his, too," I said.

Liz flushed. "I actually don't!" Did she sound _frustrated_?

Emma sighed and shook her head. "Shame, Liz, shame. I thought I taught you well!" Emma teased. "You've been slacking."

Liz shook her head. "I know. I was quite disappointed with myself."

"When this is over," Emma said, "I'll teach you again. But you'll have to remember how to stalk correctly this time."

"You two are mental," I stated. And it's not like they could even think clearly around boys.

And then, the squirrel decided to appear again. With a trill, it leapt out from under a bench and stuck its claws in front of it. Liz screamed as the squirrel started sprinting around the room.

"It's back," I said. "Liz, try out the combination on a ton of lockers while Emma and I chase down the squirrel."

"Hurry!" Emma cried, all pretense of giving a Boys 101 Lesson gone.

And that's how we got to our present positions.

* * *

><p><em>AN: And that's the second chapter! I apologize if that does not sound like realistic actions a squirrel would take or a realistic lock-picking. I'm obviously not experienced in squirrel-catching-and-chasing and lock-picking. :P Feel free to tell me any mistakes, things to improve on, realistic things for squirrels and lock-picking and other stuff, etc. Please review! Have a nice day and stay tuned! :) Expect the next chapter too be _looooong. _(Really.)_

_Coming up next chapter (dialogue and quotes):_

_"Liz, you're talking to a locker."_

_"Oh, like I haven't seen _you _talk to a locker before."_

_"You actually haven't."_

_"Actually, she's seen me talk to a locker before."_

_— - — - — _

_"What… is _with _his locker?"_

_My curiosity peaked. What could possibly be in his locker? A tea set? A laundry machine?_

__— - — - — __

_The squirrel stared at me, giving me a look that probably read, _Who-is-this-mental-girl-and-why-is-she-talking-to-me-like-I'm-an-idiot-She's-the-one-crouched-down-talking-like-a-crazy-cat-lady-with-a-creepy-look-in-her-eyes.__


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I'm so sorry for taking so long to update! I really didn't think I'd take this long. Sorry, sorry, sorry! I don't really blame you if you're not reading this. :P But I'd like to thank you for reviewing again. :)_

__Previously: Sadie, Liz, and Emma went in during lunch while everyone else was out to nick Dylan's pants from his locker in the gym. When they get there and find out the door to the boys' changing room is locked, Emma picks the lock. While Emma does that, Sadie gets out the squirrel and the squirrel escapes and runs around. Emma gets the door open and the squirrel runs in, the girls chasing it. They close the door so the squirrel can't escape, effectively locking themselves in as well. Sadie and Emma chase after the squirrel while Liz tries to find Dylan's gym locker.__

__Disclaimer: I don't own the Kane Chronicles, the characters, etc.__

* * *

><p><span>Why Did Dylan Quinn Have to Exist?<span>

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<p>

* * *

><p><em>"My poor friends. I'd never gotten them into this much trouble, not even when we got shut in the boys' changing room at school. (Long story, which involved a five quid bet, Dylan Quinn's knickers, and a squirrel. Perhaps I'll tell you later.)"<em>

_~Sadie Kane, __The Throne of Fire__, page 115_

* * *

><p>The squirrel had climbed its way to the top of the lockers, and was now scampering along the top of the rows of lockers, leaping from one row to another.<p>

"Anyone fancy climbing up the lockers and chasing that thing?" Emma suggested.

I raised my head back and stared at the squirrel. "Why don't I just throw something at it? Something that's bigger and throws better than platform shoes." I gave a pointed look to Emma, and she grumbled crossly, looking down at her bare feet.

I looked around the room, and finding nothing I could pick up (and not wanting to touch that beat-up doll), I slung my backpack off my shoulder and twirled it around my head like a lasso. It was a bit hard to get my bag to stay up and twirling in the air considering all the stuff I had in it, but I managed.

"Sadie!" Emma cried. "Don't throw your bag!"

"Why not?" I protested. "It'll be bound to hit the squirrel."

"Doubt it!" Emma said. "It'll probably end up hitting a locker."

"What's wrong with that?" I asked.

"Oh, give me that," Emma snapped, and she tore the bag from my hands. After rummaging around my bag, she pulled out a green paperback book and handed it to me. "Throw this."

"But I like this book," I argued. "And you know I don't say that often. Honestly, the books the teachers have us read are horrid. And my grandparents wonder why I spend almost all my time listening to my music and not reading."

"You're not going to lose the book, Sadie!" Emma said, exasperated, as she handed back my bag to me and I slung it over my shoulders.

So I took the book and fingered it in my hands. I eyed the squirrel that was acting as if it was on a sugar high and raised my hand back, then chucked the book forward. The book twirled around in the air, flying towards the squirrel. When the squirrel saw the book, it trilled its highest trill yet and jumped right off the lockers, the book crashing down after it.

And we shot off after the squirrel.

"I wish there weren't so many benches," I whined as we ran around another bench and after the squirrel.

The squirrel scampered around on its fours, squeaking devilishly. It stopped for a second, then turned around, taunting us, before it shot to the left. We turned sharply and followed the squirrel, yelling curses as we ran.

"That squirrel," Emma panted, "should try out for track."

I shot Emma a look. "It's a _squirrel. _An _evil _squirrel. Like anyone on the track team is going to welcome it kindly."

"Then it'd get what it deserves," Emma growled.

We dashed after the squirrel, and I took a slight detour as I ran around the lockers and benches before stooping to the ground and picking up my book. Holding it securely in one hand, I ran back towards Emma and the squirrel.

"Split up," Emma ordered as I stuffed the book into my bag. "I'll go to the left, you go to the right."

And we split up, our eyes trained on the squirrel.

"Open, you dumb, thick locker!" Liz shouted in exasperation from the other side of the room.

I turned around briefly from my running to see Liz give a hard yank at a lock, then kick the locker with her foot.

"Liz," I said, "you're talking to a locker."

"Oh, like I haven't seen _you _talk to a locker before," Liz grumbled as she moved to the next locker.

"You actually haven't," I said.

"Actually," Emma broke in, "she's seen me talk to a locker before."

We had stopped running. The squirrel was now somewhere behind a locker, nowhere in sight. I turned around to face Emma, eyebrows raised.

"She was practicing talking to Dean," Liz snorted.

I should've known. "_Really_, Emma?"

"There's nothing wrong with talking to a picture of someone inside your locker so you can talk to the real person… _not _inside your locker," Emma defended.

"I guess the practicing didn't work," I observed. "Want me to stuff Dean in your locker? Perhaps you'll be more comfortable facing him _there,_ where you did all that hard work at practicing."

Emma made a face at me, then actually contemplated my words. "I'd rather you not," she concluded. "Don't need him to see the shrine of him in there."

"Which is why I never come near your locker," I muttered.

Yes, Emma did build a shrine to Dean in her locker. It was rather frightening. I didn't even know that she had that many pictures of Dean and didn't want to know how she got them. It was a good thing her locker was at the end of a row of lockers so not everyone could see the shrine. And Dean wasn't the only bloke Emma built a shrine to. She's been building a shrine in her locker to every boy she fancied longer than two weeks.

"_Dean_ wouldn't want you there, anyway," Emma grumbled.

"That makes two of us," I replied.

The squirrel took that moment to leap out from behind the lockers and bolt past us at the speed of light.

"Less talk, more run," Emma ordered.

So we ran after the squirrel, me muttering words loud enough for Emma to hear. Honestly, telling me not to talk. Pfft.

I really had to learn to plan ahead next time. But I guess improv wasn't _too_ bad.

We tried cornering the squirrel again, but honestly, the squirrel was extremely fast. Did squirrels take super strong energy drinks or did they set up training sessions every week to practice running? [Stop looking at me like I'm mad.]

But then Emma tripped on nothing (she's just clumsy, I guess, even with her shoes off) and the squirrel stopped and turned as if to mock. I took that chance to creep up from behind and snatch up the squirrel.

"Ha!" I exclaimed triumphantly. "Gotcha!"

[I know, ignore my fallen mate to pick up a squirrel. I'm a great friend.]

The squirrel didn't like being squeezed by my hands, and it took that moment to chatter indignantly and start kicking around.

"Whoa!" I dodged kick after kick. The nefarious squirrel only angered more as I moved away from each blow.

Grumbling, Emma picked herself up from the floor and dusted herself off before shooting me a nasty glare. "Thanks for your help."

"No problem," I replied. The squirrel stuck its leg out at me again and I dodged it. Emma smirked, seeming to enjoy the revenge.

"Hey," she said suddenly. "How do you know that squirrel doesn't have rabies?"

My arms went rigid and my grasp on the squirrel loosened. I stared at it in horror. Rabies? I hadn't thought about that before. By the way the squirrel was acting, maybe it did have rabies! [Yeah, yeah, or maybe it was a reasonable response to being stuffed in a backpack, then chased around by barmy girls. I know.] I suddenly imagined the squirrel kicking around in my hands, but with a foaming mouth.

Snickering from Emma brought me back to reality. I shot a glare at her and tightened back my grip on the squirrel. Before I could retort back to her, Liz gave an excited shriek from a row of lockers.

"I found it!" Liz gasped as she excitedly chucked off a lock and flung a locker door open. "Locker 301. Bottom row, second from the left. Got it." She pulled her mobile phone out of her pocket, stepped back, and snapped a picture of the open locker.

Needless to say, I was appalled. She was absolutely mad. "Liz!" I cried as I held the wiggling squirrel away from my face, its feet barely missing kicking my face. "This is no time to be stalking people. I don't care if it's Dylan Quinn!"

Liz rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath. She reached into the locker, muttered, "Aha!", and pulled out a pair of pants.

Emma dodged from one of the squirrel's kicks and exclaimed, "Oi!" She straightened up and shot a death glare at the squirrel while massaging her cheek. "It _kicked _me! It _scratched _me! That bloody squirrel is going to get thrown out of the window."

Smirking, I held on to the squirrel as it wiggled around in my hand. I got ready to shoot towards Dylan's locker and stuff the squirrel in. Bending my knees, I looked towards his gym locker and Liz. And her hand.

What was in her hand?

"Wait a second!" I said. I stared at the pants in Liz's hands. "Are those… knickers?"

Okay, shut up, stop laughing, or thinking I'm bonkers. They looked girly. The pants looked an awful lot like knickers.

"Um…" Liz looked at the pants/knickers.

"He wears knickers?" Emma asked, stopping her death glares at the squirrel and calculating looks of how much force it'd take to do defenestration to the squirrel. She turned her head and looked at the knickers, then started snickering.

Liz shook her head. "They aren't knickers!" Liz protested. "They just look like knickers…"

I clutched on to the squirrel, but lowered it slightly to get a better look at the knicker-like pants. "Right. So we've got his pants/knickers—"

"Pants!" Liz interrupted. "Not knickers."

"You know," Emma put in, her hands on her hips as she squinted her eyes at the knickers, "those _do_ look like knickers."

"Pants," Liz stated.

"The more you protest," I said, "the more we'll call them knickers."

Liz grumbled, shot us a glare, but kept her mouth shut.

"How do you even know those are clean?" Emma asked, glancing skeptically at the knick—_pants_.

Liz scrunched her nose. "It's… odd," she said, sounding disturbed. "Check it out yourself." She stepped to the side and motioned for us to come over.

Emma and I glanced at each other before Emma sauntered forward to Dylan's locker, then stuck her head in, gave a shout, and hurriedly backed away from it. She studied it from afar, then turned around with a look of bewilderment on her face. "What… is _with _his locker?"

My curiosity peaked. What could possibly be in his locker? A tea set? A laundry machine? I voiced my thoughts as my grip on the squirrel loosened. Leaning down, I lowered my hands to the ground and gripped tighter so I could keep hold of the squirrel.

"No," Emma said, shuddering. "I wish it were those things. He… uh… divided his locker into sections."

I knitted my eyebrows. "Sections?"

"He has these pieces of cardboard," Emma explained, "and he put them up to divide up his locker. Then he labeled each section. There are sections for clean clothes and dirty clothes, so Liz pulled out knickers from the 'clean' section, but there's also a section… for food."

Raising my eyebrows, I shot her a look to make sure I heard her right. It was weird enough that he made himself sections in his locker for his clean and dirty clothes and organized and brought in clean clothes, but it was even weirder that he'd have food. Reading my look, Emma nodded and shrugged.

"Food," I repeated dumbly. "He has a section in his locker for _food_."

Liz held up her hands in a _Don't ask me _signal.

"Does…he have any food in there?" I asked apprehensively.

Liz shook her head. "No, thank god. There are a few crumbs in that section but nothing else. It would've stunk here if there was food."

"Bet he knew that," I observed, nodding towards the locker. From my position, I could see clothes piled in groups in the locker, separated by propped-up pieces of cardboard. There was an empty space to the right, which I assumed was the food section. "He probably threw out his food so his locker wouldn't get moldy. That would've been a neat freak's nightmare."

Emma snorted and Liz made no attempt to protest and defend Dylan. Instead, she just looked a bit tired.

The squirrel must have had a sore part over the topic of locker sections—maybe it was a neat freak, too—for it started kicking around more violently than ever, its claws scratching the ground and trying to scratch me. I felt my fingers spread apart and my hands loosen. I had to move fast.

"Right, move away from the locker now," I commanded. "I've got to get rid of this murderous squirrel as soon as possible."

"Don't fancy getting kicked again," Emma grumbled crossly.

As Liz and Emma moved to the side, the squirrel kicked more furiously in my hands. I quickly charged for the open locker, thrusting the kicking squirrel in front of me. The squirrel squirmed in my grasp and I felt my fingers loosing their grip. I shot towards the locker and knelt down, then thrust my hand out to stuff the squirrel in. But just as the squirrel was going to be chucked into the locker, it reached out its paws and hands, like the little gymnast it was. As I shoved my hand into the locker, the squirrel blocked me by using its hands and feet as anchors.

"You've got to be kidding me," I huffed, pulling the squirrel back, then quickly pushing it toward the locker again. The squirrel kept its arms and legs outstretched.

I adjusted the angle, but the squirrel still wouldn't go in. I shoved and thrust and forced and pushed and plunged the squirrel towards the locker, but it wouldn't give in.

I was pulling the squirrel back from the locker when it reached its leg out and began kicking madly in the air. I dodged its paw and ducked down as the kicks kept getting closer to me. The squirrel wiggled around with so much force that my fingers were spreading more and more apart. And then the squirrel clawed at my hand. Yelping, my grip released around the squirrel and I dropped it.

"Sadie!" Emma and Liz cried as I held my throbbing hand.

"I'm fine," I gasped, wringing my hand and waving it in the air. "Get the stupid squirrel back."

The squirrel cackled, excited to have escaped and to be free again. It darted around the room and we took off after it again.

We ran around another row of lockers, and as Emma and Liz scampered around opposite sides of a bench, I jumped onto it and ran across, then jumped off. The squirrel turned its head back, fixing its beady eye at us, then shot forward.

My mates must've decided to make today a really talkative day. "I'm starving," Liz complained.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said sarcastically. "Let me give you some food as I _chase after a squirrel_."

"Please do." Liz nodded and rubbed her stomach for emphasis.

"Right. Well," I panted. "Why don't you speed up chasing after the squirrel while I stop and look for some food for you?"

"And some for me, too," Emma chimed in.

I shook my head. "Are both of you serious?"

"Yes!" Liz cried. "I want food. Now."

My mates were horrible at going on wild goose chases. They told _me _I talk too much. Well, they talk too much, too, when they run. And honestly, _eating _whilst you're chasing down an enraged squirrel? Yeah, that'll win them a gold medal in the chase. But since I was growing tired from all that running, I relented.

"Fine." I slowed down and slung my bag off my shoulder, then tugged on the zipper. After the zippers slid apart from each other, I thrust my hand into the bag and pawed around, finally snatching my crinkled lunch bag and pulling it out. I peered inside. "I've got two sandwiches. An apple. A bag of crisps. Some sweets. Apple sauce. And some biscuits." [What? I have a big appetite.]

"Oh, biscuits!" Emma exclaimed as she reached down to snatch the squirrel, but missed.

"Um. Does that mean you want them?" I asked. "Or are you just using that phrase?"

"I'll have the biscuits," Liz piped up as she stumbled after the squirrel.

"They're Gran's," I added.

"Oh," Liz said. "Um. Never mind. Toss me the apple, then."

I snatched the apple out of the bag and threw it at Liz. It bounced towards the squirrel instead, and the squirrel squeaked and sped up, the apple bumping towards a stop in its trail.

"Thanks, Sadie," Liz said sarcastically as she glanced up from the squirrel.

"Any time," I replied, smiling sweetly.

"Give me the bag of crisps," Emma demanded, having stopped running.

So I threw the crisps at Emma and she caught them and hurriedly opened the bag. She stopped chasing the squirrel and shoveled crisp after crisp into her mouth, stuffing her face and not caring about the mess she was making. Liz ran up to her and grabbed a crisp from the bag. Crumbs littered the floor.

The squirrel kept shooting around the room, but it suddenly slowed down in front of Emma and Liz. It ambled up to them, and then reached down and started eating the crisp crumbs right off the floor.

"It's _hungry_," I said in realization as I watched the squirrel.

A light bulb flashed on above my head and I dug out the biscuits from my bag. Slowly, I crouched down and slid one of the biscuits on the floor, towards the squirrel. The biscuit slowly skated towards the squirrel, then stopped a few feet away. The squirrel finished licking the crumbs off the floor, then turned, sat straight up, and sniffed the air. It got on all fours and eyed the biscuit. Then, it started running and leapt towards the stray biscuit, claws outstretched, ready to pounce its prey. The squirrel's claws snatched the biscuit from the ground and the squirrel started nibbling on it.

We were quiet as we watched the squirrel eat the biscuit. Emma and Liz had stopped eating crisps, their hands frozen halfway up to her mouth (Emma) and halfway towards the bag (Liz). As I watched the squirrel eat, I half expected it to suddenly drop to the ground, pulsing, poisoned from the biscuit, which was almost food poisoning by itself. Instead, the squirrel steadily nibbled away at the biscuit. That must have been one hungry and desperate squirrel.

As the squirrel gnawed down the biscuit, I slowly grabbed another biscuit out of the bag, careful not to make a noise. The squirrel finished its biscuit, and it looked at its paws as if expecting another one to grow back into its hand. I slowly advanced forward towards the squirrel, holding out the biscuit in my hand.

"Hi," I said softly. [Yes, I can talk quietly. _NOW HUSH UP. I'M TELLING A STORY_.] "Do you want this biscuit? I know you want it. Come on, take the biscuit."

The squirrel stared at me, giving me a look that probably read, _Who-is-this-mental-girl-and-why-is-she-talking-to-me-like-I'm-an-idiot-She's-the-one-crouched-down-talking-like-a-crazy-cat-lady-with-a-creepy-look-in-her-eyes._

Squirrels have harsh thoughts.

But hunger overpowered the squirrel's suspicious thoughts, and it perked up, then started scampering in my direction. I stayed glued to the floor, but at a snail's pace, slowly lowered the biscuit closer and closer towards the squirrel.

Emma and Liz were watching me with rapt interest, each shoveling crisp after crisp into their mouth, staring at me, transfixed, as if I were a television show. It was a bit unnerving, and I shot them looks. But then I focused back on the squirrel, which was getting closer. Then it was in front of me, and it reached out its paws towards the biscuit. I relaxed my grip on the biscuit and placed it slowly onto the ground, where the squirrel pounced on it and started gobbling it up.

I didn't feel too bad about losing the biscuits. Gran's biscuits were horrid, though I'd never tell her that.

I was careful to not draw too much attention from the squirrel to my hands as I raised them. My hands crept closer to the squirrel, and I lunged forward and gently encircled the squirrel with my hands. The squirrel tensed as my hands gripped it, but it just reached out and grabbed the biscuit from the ground.

Celebrating my success in my head, I slowly stood up with my hands stuck straight out in front of me, closed tightly, but not too tightly, around the squirrel.

The squirrel did not like the change of altitude, however. Once it rose higher into the air, it started participating in its favorite sport: kick the human. (I suppose as one of our sports was "capture the squirrel and stuff it into a weird locker", I couldn't blame it.)

I dodged kick after kick from the squirrel, crying out indignantly when its foot got too close to my face or struck my arm. Emma and Liz abandoned the crisps (they were probably out, anyway) and rushed towards me as I ran towards the locker.

"Here!" Emma exclaimed as she grabbed my bag of biscuits. She glanced at them. "God, are they supposed to even _look _that hard?"

"No," I replied tersely as I ducked my head from a flying foot.

"Oh, right," Emma said as she looked at me. She ran over towards me with Liz behind her and grabbed another biscuit from the bag.

"Hey," I gasped as I raised my arms above my head to shield myself from another ferocious kick. "Squirrel." _Dodge. _"Why don't"—d_odge—_"you eat"—_dodge—_"your biscuit?"—_Dodge._

The squirrel was apparently a brill multi-tasker.

Emma and Liz passed me and raced over to Dylan's locker. As Liz knelt down, yanked the locker door back, and held it in place, Emma snatched some biscuits out of the bag and threw them into the locker. I could only hope for the sake of Dylan Quinn that they were in the food section.

"Here, squirrel, squirrel," Liz stuttered, holding a biscuit out with a shaking hand.

The squirrel aimed one more kick at my eye, then turned and looked at Liz. Liz paled as the squirrel stared straight at her and her hand wavered down a bit, but she stayed strong.

"Take the biscuit," Liz said nervously.

I slowly placed the squirrel on the ground. It looked around, then scampered towards Liz, who let out a muffled squeal and stepped back.

"Here," Emma offered, taking the biscuit from Liz. Emma crouched down and looked the squirrel in the eye. "Come on, squirrel."

The squirrel slowly walked towards Emma, and I walked next to Emma and Liz and crouched down as well. "Take the biscuit, squirrel," I said. "Or is that not your name? Take the biscuit, um, Squeaky. Take the biscuit, Alvin. The biscuit, Chipmunk—Quirrel—Bob—Kicker—Mad—"

Emma gave me a look, and I shut my mouth. [Yes, I can do that. Enough with the jokes. They're not funny.]

The squirrel tentatively reached out for the biscuit, and Emma let the squirrel snatch it from her. The squirrel wolfed down the biscuit. Then its nose twitched and its eyes darted around the gym before landing on the open locker door. Emma slowly placed one more biscuit into the locker and stepped back, as did Liz, leaving the squirrel a nice open space.

We held our breaths as the squirrel slowly advanced towards the locker. The only sound heard was the clicking of the squirrel's insanely pointy claws on the floor. Then, slowly, the squirrel slinked forward, into the locker, and grabbed the biscuit. It started chomping away on the biscuit, its tail waving around excitedly.

Liz, being the one nearest to the locker door, hurriedly slammed the door shut. The slam echoed in the gym, breaking the silence, and we all rushed forward towards the locker.

"Where's the lock?" I asked, searching the ground for it as Emma pushed against the locker.

"Oh!" Liz reached into her pocket and pulled out the lock. She ran over to the locker and stuck the lock on, locking it with a satisfying _click!_

Dylan Quinn's pants—in Liz's hand, check! The squirrel—safely stashed in the locker, check!

Okay. So maybe it wasn't _safely _stashed.

The squirrel seemed to be just realizing where it was, judging from the bangs that were coming from the locker. The squirrel must have been kicking around in the locker, trying to bust itself out.

"Oh, god," I murmured, staring at Dylan's locker. I could see the door shaking and the bangs were growing louder and louder.

"Is it going to break down the locker door?" Liz asked fearfully.

Bang! Bang!

"I almost feel bad for Dylan," I remarked. "Almost."

"Wonder what condition his locker's going to be in?" Emma asked.

"Bet he'll be upset when he opens his locker and finds out a squirrel's been rampaging and messed up his sections," I said. "Clothes and food mixed together—it'll be his worst nightmare."

Snickering, we stood there, watching the locker shake as the hyper little squirrel smashed around in it. We didn't make any attempt to prevent the locker from breaking. Not even Liz, even though she did look a little ill and was on the border of hyperventilating.

After a while, Liz said tentatively, "Um… should we… find a way to stop it?"

Cocking our heads to the side, we continued looking at the locker, seeing the door shake and vibrate. Then, I shrugged and said, "Eh, it'll tire out eventually. Whatever."

Emma snickered in agreement while Liz, looking appalled, exclaimed, "Sadie!"

I held up my hands. "Sorry, but I really don't have much sympathy for Dylan Quinn."

"But… He might get a fine if the locker breaks!" Liz peered down at the locker warily.

"The way I see it," I said, leaning down as well, "is that if he causes us to lose money because of the bet, he should lose money, too. And when we do win the bet, though, he should still lose money because of all the trouble we had."

"Yes," Emma agreed, nodding. "The bloody squirrel _kicked _me. It's going to leave a _bruise. _This is _all_ Dylan's fault. Honestly. Why did Dylan Quinn have to exist?"

Liz scrunched her eyebrows but didn't protest. "Fine." Sighing, she stood up and looked at the knickers in her hand. "Are we going to leave now?"

Who'd have thought she'd be the one wanting to leave the boys' changing room. I'd have thought she'd be running around in bliss. I told her this, and she stuck her tongue out at me and smacked my head, muttering for me to shut up and that she would _not_ be in bliss.

She led the way to the door, then reached out her hand and placed it on the handle. She gave it a yank, but when the door wouldn't open, she grew panicked and continuously yanked and yanked at the handle. The door didn't budge.

"What—" Liz gasped.

Then I remembered. I had forgotten due to all the chasing, but now, as I looked at Liz frantically trying to open the door, it came back to me. The door had locked itself.

We were locked inside the boys' changing room.

Lovely.

Why did Dylan Quinn have to exist?

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><p><em>AN: Hope you found that chapter suitable. Muchas gracias to Cerulean Apocalypse for the rabies idea. I'd love constructive criticism, a review of any kind! Please? :) Since there's only one chapter left! I promise I won't take as much time to update this time! _


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Last chapter! :O Thank you so much for _all_ your reviews! _One thing: Does anyone play Words With Friends? I was playing the app, and I figured out a way to get the words "Zia" and "Ra" in one move. Of course, I was very proud of myself and rushed to play it, but you know what it told me? They aren't "acceptable" words. Imagine my outrage. Someone should write a strongly-worded letter to the producers of the app!__

__Previously: Sadie and Emma chased around for the squirrel while Liz tried to find Dylan's locker. As they lured the squirrel into Dylan's locker using some of Sadie's gran's biscuits, Liz braved her fear of squirrels. They rushed to run out after the deed was done and they had Dylan's knicker-like pants in their (Liz's) hands, only only to realize that the door was locked.__

__Disclaimer: I sadly do not own any part of the Kane Chronicles at all.__

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><p><span>Why Did Dylan Quinn Have to Exist?<span>

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><p>Chapter 4<p>

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><p><em>"My poor friends. I'd never gotten them into this much trouble, not even when we got shut in the boys' changing room at school. (Long story, which involved a five quid bet, Dylan Quinn's knickers, and a squirrel. Perhaps I'll tell you later.)"<em>

_~Sadie Kane, __The Throne of Fire__, page 115_

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><p>Liz started pounding her fists on the door. Her punches echoed around the gym, replacing the smashing from the squirrel, which had presumably tired out.<p>

"Liz!" I said, approaching her cautiously. "Calm down."

"Calm down?" Liz screeched as her fists hit the door. "I will not bloody well calm down! We're locked in the boys' changing room! This is not a situation in which you calm down!"

"So you'd rather Dylan Quinn walk by, hear the noise, and come open the door to find you standing here holding his knickers?" I asked.

Liz stopped punching and looked at the knickers in her hand. "_Pants. _And we all know that's not going to happen," she said, and she continued hitting the door.

"Right, Liz, watch him come in two minutes," Emma muttered.

Liz made a face but stopped pounding on the door. Instead, she started kicking it. "It's"—_kick—_"gotta"—_kick—_"fall"—_kick—_"down"—_kick—_"eventually!" _Kick._

Clearly, Liz was going mad.

"There has to be another exit," I suggested, looking around. "Like an emergency exit?"

"_This_ is the emergency exit!" Liz screamed as she repeatedly kicked the door. Her face became more and more red as she used up more and more energy. "You don't have _emergency exits _in a changing room!"

"Calm down, Liz," Emma soothed. "This isn't the end of the world. Your freckles seem to know how mad you're acting. They're hiding from you!"

Liz glared at Emma, but her tiredness triumphed and she sat down on the bench, panting. She looked at Emma's smirk, glared, then got back up and continued trying to give the door bruises.

Meanwhile, I scanned the room. There had to be another exit somewhere! My eyes landed on the vents high up on the wall and I grinned. It worked on the telly, after all.

"The vents," I said.

"What?" Emma asked, clearly thinking that I'd gone crazy.

"We can escape," I declared, "through the vents."

Emma jumped up. When I thought she was going to praise my genius, she bluntly asked, "Are you mad?"

I bristled. I was genius, not mad. "No, thanks very much. It works on the television."

"Because those are shows!" Emma cried. "You know they aren't even actually in the vents, right?"

"Yes, they are!" I defended. "And they couldn't make that up without it being possible."

Emma raised her eyebrow. She was clearly just too astonished by my genius reasoning to say anything. She was probably going to get down on her knees any minute now and worship me.

However, the floor was really dirty. Poor girl. I saved her from having to grovel in the dirt, because, after all, besides being a genius, I was also the queen of generosity. "Well?" I asked. When she didn't respond, I continued. "What other choice do we have?"

Emma looked at the vent. "Whatever happened to breaking the window with a ball?" she grumbled.

From the door, Liz screamed out, "No! You are not smashing the window and having to pay for the fines and possibly getting glass into my skin!"

I gestured towards Liz in a _there you go_ signal. Emma wrinkled her nose. Finally, she sighed.

"Fine. But you're mad."

"Says the girl who was pondering over whether Dean's locker would be conveniently open so she could marvel over his clothes," I shot back.

"Oh, shut up," Emma grumbled.

We walked over to where the vents were, sitting above the lockers, and I stood on top of a bench. I eyed the row of lockers in front of me and held out my hands. A squirrel was able to do this, after all. Sucking in my breath, I jumped off the bench and forward towards the lockers. My hands extended to the top of the row of the lockers and I clung on desperately. As I struggled to pull myself on top of the lockers, I made a note to myself to practice flinging my pillow around my room more for better arm strength. [It really does work. Don't look at me like that. See who's criticizing when I punch you.]

Liz stopped kicking the door and walked next to Emma. "We're seriously escaping through the vents?" she asked skeptically, craning her head back to look at me.

"Oh, like the door was going to fall down anytime soon," I huffed.

I pulled myself up to the top of the lockers and shakily stood up, but then got back down on all fours. It was probably a good thing that I didn't have acrophobia. I hated to copy the squirrel, especially since it liked Gran's biscuits and allowed itself to be stuffed into a weird locker, but… Eying the vent warily, I crawled towards it.

"Sadie!" Liz suddenly hissed, her voice urgent. "Someone's coming!"

I paused and strained my ears. At first I didn't hear anything, but then I heard the sound of footsteps. They steadily grew louder as someone drew nearer.

"Hide!" I cried.

I scooted down so I was sitting on the row of lockers, then used my hands to launch me off the row. As I jumped off, I winced as a pain shot through my ankle when I landed on my leg with a big force, but shook it off and ran around the room.

"Watch it be Dylan Quinn," Emma muttered to Liz, who pretended like she hadn't heard Emma.

I dove behind a row of lockers hidden in the corner and my mates followed. As I shook out my foot, Liz quickly stuffed the knickers into my bag, much to my disgust. We crouched down in silence and stared at the door. There was the sound of keys jingling, then the lock turning. The door slowly creaked open and in walked Carl.

You know how at almost every school, there's that caretaker or security guard that all the students worship? Well, Carl was the hero everyone wanted a high-five from at this school. I've always been quite fond of Carl ever since he gave me advice for how to get out the stain that _someone _made on my combat boots. (I won't say who it was as I don't fancy reliving that memory. All I'll say is that if you ever have the urge to suddenly trip and spill food over someone's shoes, make sure it isn't on the day when the cafeteria serves the messiest and most staining lunch and that you don't vomit at the sight of the spilled food afterwards.)

But I didn't fancy getting caught in the boys' changing room by anyone, not even Carl, and I didn't want to push my luck.

Carl propped the door open with his wheeled bucket and took out a mop. He walked over to the other end of the room and started mopping up a spot on the floor, humming whilst he cleaned.

Now was the perfect time. His back was turned to us. I slowly stood up and motioned for Emma and Liz to follow. We quietly crept towards the open door, towards freedom when...

_Bam! Bang! Crash!_

Noises boomed from a particular locker. The squirrel had decided to act up again. Carl's humming stopped short. We dove behind another row of lockers a split second before he turned around.

"Who's there?" Carl called.

The squirrel just ran around in the locker some more, smashing into the walls. We held our breaths.

"I know you're hiding," Carl said.

We stayed frozen as Carl's footsteps sounded the room. We kept our backs pressed to the lockers as we sank lower and lower. My eyes darted to my left and my right, but I didn't dare turn my hand.

"Sadie."

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Carl was at the other end of the changing room, but he knew we were here. Emma and Liz shot me panicked looks and I slowly stood up and walked around the row of lockers. Carl glanced at me with an amused—or was it annoyed—expression.

"What are you doing in the boys' changing room?" Carl asked.

I stared at Carl as thoughts raced in my head. "What...are _you _doing…in the _girls' _changing room?" I finally spat out.

Carl raised his eyebrow. "Last time I checked," he said, "this was definitely the boys' changing room."

I gave a nervous laugh. "Oh, silly me. No wonder my locker wasn't opening. Ha. Ha."

Carl just stared at me. His eyes shifted down towards the row of lockers I had hid behind and he said, "Emma. Liz."

There was a moment of silence, then slowly, Emma and Liz stood up and appeared around the lockers. That was just creepy how he did that.

"Oh, hi there, Carl," Emma said with a fake cheery voice, as if she just noticed Carl was in the room. She fidgeted around and gave him a small wave.

"Were you the ones hitting the locker?" Carl asked.

Go with it. "Yes!" I nodded.

The squirrel took that moment to start rampaging around in the locker again, and I quickly shot out my hand and gave the nearby locker a few whacks, trying to time it with the squirrel.

"Heh," Emma chuckled nervously as she reached out to hit the locker, too.

"All right, enough!" Carl said. "Stop."

We withdrew out hands from the locker, but the squirrel kept running around. Liz quickly stuck out her hand where Carl could see it and hit the locker with those amazing skills she used to also hit the door.

"Um, you see," Emma said as Liz kept awkwardly hitting the locker, "when Sadie couldn't open her locker, or what she thought was her locker, she started punching and hitting it."

"Yeah, I was really frustrated," I said, nodding innocently. "That had never happened to me before. I thought that maybe... Um, hitting it would help."

"Doesn't she think of the maddest solutions?" Liz asked.

I restrained myself from raising an eyebrow at Liz.

"I know, Liz," Emma agreed. "How does hitting something help?"

"Liz, _I'll_ try not to hit a door in the future," I said. Can't say anything for you.

Carl just listened on, and I knew he wasn't buying our story.

"Aren't you girls supposed to be at lunch?" Carl asked.

"Yes, of course. I am feeling peckish, after all," I said in a robotic tone. I cleared my throat to try to get rid of it. No luck. "But then I realized I left my jumper in my gym locker, and it was a bit chilly outside, so I went to get my jumper. But apparently, I wasn't thinking and I thought that I was in the girls' changing room, but I wasn't."

I nodded while Carl just stood there with raised eyebrows.

"I get the feeling you girls won't tell me what you were really doing here," Carl remarked.

"But that's what we were doing," Liz said. "Sadie forced us to come with her, even though we didn't want to."

She wasn't just talking about my made-up story.

"Honestly, Liz, it's just getting a jumper," I said.

I wasn't just talking about my made-up story.

Carl interrupted us. "Were you girls getting anything else, by chance?"

We looked at each other. "Um, no," Liz finally said.

"Really?" Carl propped his mop against the wall, then walked over a few rows of lockers until he was covered by the towering rows. I considered trying to make a run for it and fidgeted on my feet, leaning towards the right and twisting around. But then he walked back, and he was carrying something in his hands. He held the objects out in front of him for us to see. "Should I just toss these in the dust bin, then?"

Dangling in his hands were Emma's atrocious platform shoes.

Emma made a small whimpering sound, her protest crawling up the back of her throat. She stared at the shoes and reached out her hands slowly.

"I guess seeing as you didn't come for anything else, these will have to be thrown away," Carl said, eyeing the shoes. "They're not yours, then. After all, they might have infections in them. You know, from whoever wore them. Feet have nasty stuff on them, you know—"

Emma broke. "Bollocks! They do _not_ have infections, you—you—ugh!" Her hands flew to her hair, and she started pulling at it, as if she were going to tear out her hair. Her eyes were wide and panicked, but also offended. "What are you trying to say?" A string of expletives flew from her mouth.

Surprised, I looked at Emma, seeing her ranting and cursing. For a while I smirked and almost internally laughed, but then I decided it was time for her to shut up and elbowed her in the stomach.

"Ouch!" Emma grabbed her stomach and glared at me.

Eyebrows raised, Carl set the shoes on a bench in front of him, and Emma crossly stomped her way to the bench and picked up her shoes before slipping them back on.

"You realize I have to tell a teacher about this, right?" Carl asked as Emma clicked her way back to us as loudly as she could, stomping the heels on the ground. She stumbled a little and almost fell, but I caught her, shaking from silent laughter at her.

"Oh. That's fine. You should. Yeah," I was speaking quickly, knowing we had to leave _now._ "It's the right thing. Well, now that that's all sorted out"—I grabbed a hold of Liz's arm and pushed Emma with my other arm, all of us backing away—"we'll go to lunch. Bye!"

And we ran out of the changing room and out of the gym before Carl could force us to stay.

Oh, how innocent and naïve we were to think that we could get away.

— - — - — - — - —

"Is there a reason why you girls were in the boys' changing room?"

We were sitting in the headmistress' office, looking at the headmistress as she shot us a very fake smile and folded her hands on her desk. Carl had dropped us off at the headmistress' office a few minutes before, explaining the situation, before he bowed out, waving at us. _Psh._ Carl was rather overrated.

"No," I replied.

The headmistress' smile just grew wider. She pushed her short brown hair behind her shoulders, and then leaned down closer towards us. "Are you absolutely sure about that?" And the smile slipped off her face as she shot us a penetrating gaze. "You can confide your secrets to me, girls," she said in a deadly serious voice.

Liz shifted uncomfortably in her seat and exchanged looks with Emma and me. "Okay," Liz said, making the word sound like a question.

The headmistress was still giving us a piercing look, so Emma gave a dramatic sigh, put her hands to her face as if in shame, and said, "Okay. You caught us. We were always curious what the inside of the inside of the boys' changing room looks like. We've heard boys talking about it like it's chocolate or something."

Chocolate. Really? That just sounded really odd. I shot Emma a look and she smirked a little before finishing her story.

"And we were so curious that we wanted to see for ourselves."

The headmistress stared at us, then sighed and opened a drawer on her desk before bringing out a box and placing it in front of her. "You kids," she sighed, shaking her head, "and your attractions to the opposite sex." She lifted the cover off the box and tilted it towards us. Chocolate.

We raised our eyebrows at each other but didn't say anything. Before, I'd thought our headmistress was fine. Now… she was a bit creepy. Mad. Bonkers. Lunatic.

At our lack of response, the headmistress tilted the box towards herself and took out a piece of chocolate. "Ah, to be young again," she said dreamily, waving the chocolate in the air, "carefree, interested in exploring and figuring out—"

"Um," Emma interrupted. "Will that be all?"

We inched our chairs away from the desk and back towards the door in unison.

"No, no!" the headmistress gushed. "Stay. I feel like catching up with my inner young-self. Have some sweets. Tell me about your young life. Your activities, even your fancies, come on girls, really."

I couldn't take it anymore. She was horrifying.

"I have to go to the loo!" I spat out.

Yeah, I know, not the best excuse. But the headmistress was really creeping me out.

"Oh, well—"

"We all go together," Liz piped up. "Young girl thing."

And we got up and dashed off before she said anything even more disturbing.

— - — - — - — - —

"Here." Liz thrust her hand out at Danielle. In Liz's hand were Dylan's pants/knickers.

Scrunching her nose and squinting, Danielle stared at the knickers as if they might be fake. "These are knickers," she stated as she leaned in closer to them. I snickered.

The sun shone down at us, trapping us in its heat, and it seemed to grow brighter, as if it were snickering, too. We stood outside of the school after another long day, trying to find some shade under a tree next to the school. Liz looked annoyed and stomped her foot in frustration as she glared at Heather and her troop.

"Oh, for Pete's sake, they are not knickers!" Liz threw up her hands. "They're pants. They just… kind of look like knickers."

Danielle looked skeptical. "Are these"—she pointed to the knickers—"really his?" She shook her head. "You didn't really nick his pants. You're faking."

"We're _not_!" Emma exclaimed. "We did not dash into the boys' changing room, chase a deranged squirrel, get locked in the changing room, almost get my precious shoes thrown out, _and_ get a month of detention just to _fake_ something!" She clenched her fists and shot a death glare at Danielle.

Then, suddenly, the doors of the school burst open. The groups of talking people scattered among the grounds turned and looked at the doors. A chap with blond hair burst out of the doors of the school, screaming, and ran down the pavement as fast as his feet could carry him. Something small was following him and sprinting after him. Something small and brown, with a bushy tail and matted fur.

After the screaming faded away, Emma asked Danielle, "Is that enough proof?" She nodded in Dylan's direction.

Danielle watched Dylan run away, then turned to us and said, "But that only proves the squirrel part. Not the nicking part."

Was she kidding me? "Honestly? You just don't want to give us our five quid," I said.

"Then why did you bring knickers?" Danielle asked.

"They are not knickers!" Liz cried.

I leaned over to Liz and whispered, "Liz, hun, calm down. You're not winning this because those do look a lot like knickers."

Liz shot a glare at me. Then she perked up and dug her mobile out of her pocket. "I took a picture of his locker," she announced. "For proof. Look."

She thrust the phone out at Danielle, and Danielle squinted her eyes and studied the picture. Finally, after a few moments of silence, Danielle reached into her pocket and threw out five quid. "You win," she sighed resentfully. "Here. Five quid. Keep the knickers."

Never knew the day Liz's stalking skills would come in handy.

Liz opened her mouth to say "pants" but I interrupted her. "We don't want them, _right?_" Turning around to face my friends, I shot an extremely pointed look at Liz.

A small squeal emitted from behind Danielle. "Oh, give them to me!" Heather cried, thrusting out her hand. "I love Dylan Quinn!"

Liz shrugged, then handed the knickers over to Heather, and Heather snatched them away quickly.

"Heather," Danielle said, smirking, "you owe me a quid!"

"What?" Heather exclaimed. She looked around confusedly, then clamped her mouth shut. She opened and closed her mouth, but no words came out. Finally, she managed to say, "Drat. The bet."

As Danielle and her minions turned away, a loudly grumbling Heather following, we started in the other direction, laughing to ourselves.

"Come on," I said cheerfully, suddenly in a much better mood. "Let's go to Piccadilly. I need some more pictures from their photo booth. Maybe we can spend our five quid there. Fancy buying a stuffed squirrel to celebrate?"

Emma chortled while Liz rolled her eyes.

"They won't have stuffed squirrels for sale," Liz muttered.

"You know," Emma remarked. "I reckon maybe _I _could try out for the track team. Running after a squirrel is great training. I think that practice has grown on me."

"Well, we'll make sure to capture a squirrel for you every day so you can train," I said sarcastically.

"Do it," Emma said, deadly serious.

Liz and I exchanged looks with each other, our eyebrows raised.

"What are you waiting for?" Emma turned and ran down the pavement, heading for a forest of trees nearby the pavement. "Come on!"

"Weren't you the one who was worried that the squirrel might have rabies?" I grunted.

My mates were mad.

But, I admit, so was I. [There, you have it on record. Stop bugging me now.] So, shrugging, we ran after her.

Let another race for a squirrel begin.

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><p><em>When I was writing the headmistress, I kind of imagined her as Umbridge from Harry Potter. :P<br>_

_Horrible ending, I'm sorry. I'm horrible at those. :P But I really do hope you enjoyed the story! Please review! Tell me what you thought of it! Again, I hope you liked it! Thanks for reading!  
><em>


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